


butterfly kisses

by itsmylifekay



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Asthma, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, for steve at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 23:08:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1796662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmylifekay/pseuds/itsmylifekay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four short glimpses into Steve and Bucky growing up together, being really cute, and figuring out their relationship.</p>
<p>Or, I found a kissing fic meme on tumblr and my friend picked random numbers and so here we are. Steve and Bucky fluff to the max.</p>
            </blockquote>





	butterfly kisses

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoy :)

 

Steve was small.

He was small in stature, small bones, small hands, small _everything._ It made Bucky insane, some days. Because even though Steve was fragile, breakable, he still insisted on taking on every bully in the state of New York. Hell, the kid would probably take on the world if he could find a way to do it.

A kid was pushed down in the yard, Steve went over and pushed back. A dame was hassled in the streets, Steve was right there defending her honor. But scrappy as Steve was, he was still no match for a guy twice his size, or a group of ‘em for that matter. But that never stopped Steve. Course not. He was too stubborn for that.

Instead, he’d come back to Bucky with black eyes and split lips, bruises and scrapes that had the nuns tutting and Bucky sneaking into the infirmary to knock him upside the head himself and tell him not to stick his nose where it was liable to get punched in. Not that Steve listened. Because for all that his body begged to differ, Steve was strong. The strongest person Bucky had ever met.

Not that many other people could see that.

“Called me weak, Buck. Said it wasn’t even worth it to pick a fight with such a runt, since the winter would kill me anyway.”

Bucky suppressed a shudder at the words, remembering all to well the hours he’d spent by Steve’s side when the air turned cold and Steve’s lungs turned to lead, his body going from one fever to the next.

“Obviously didn’t stick to that opinion for long,” Bucky said instead, dabbing at a cut splitting Steve’s eyebrow. “You say something to make him change his mind?”

Steve puffed up at that, squaring his thin shoulders and nodding his head. “Told him only cowards didn’t fight their own battles. Just like only cowards stole from little old ladies who can’t defend themselves.”

“And then?” Bucky prompted, having a feeling there was more to the story.

Steve deflated a bit, licking over a cut in his lip before glancing towards the door and away from Bucky’s gaze. “I might’ve said something about how he was shaming his mother to be out bullying the less fortunate.”

Bucky sighed. “Why can’t you just leave guys like him alone?” He wiped at a smudge of blood on Steve’s arm and internally cursed when he saw it was from a large scrape underneath and not just smear from wiping at his face. “Keep you a lot cleaner, your clothes too.”

“Because, guys like him shouldn’t be left alone. If they’re doing something wrong, someone needs to make ‘em stop.”

“And that’s gotta be you? Huh, Stevie?” Bucky asked, moving from his spot in front of Steve to the sink. He started to rinse out the cloth he’d been using and frowned at all the red swirling down the drain.

“Gotta be somebody.” Steve shrugged. “And when you’re not around, there usually isn’t anybody else but me.”

And that was Steve’s logic. He’d step in the line of fire to help anybody but himself. It made Bucky want to throttle anyone who so much as touched Steve, took advantage of him because he was little and willing. A punching bag to be taken out into the nearest alley.

Because Steve was the nicest person Bucky had ever met, the most earnest and loyal individual in all of America. And it boiled his blood to think people couldn’t see past the frail exterior to all the strength bottled up inside.

(Sometimes, when Bucky was younger and he and Steve had just started to become joined at the hip, when he was just beginning to learn how amazing Steve truly was, he’d wondered if that wasn’t why Steve was always so sick. If he wasn’t falling apart because his little body couldn’t hold all of the spirit that was trapped inside.)

Sometimes, he still wondered.

“Well, how about next time you just tell the police and not try to stop all New York’s crime by yourself?”

Steve shook his head. “You know it doesn’t work like that, Buck. By the time the police came that lady’s purse would’ve been long gone.”

Bucky couldn’t argue with that, just like he couldn’t argue with a lot of what Steve said, either because of the smarts behind it or the fact Steve was stubborn as a mule.

“She get it back then?” Bucky asked, leaning his hip against the sink and taking in the bruising around Steve’s eye. It would be best if they put some ice on that, but he wasn’t sure where they’d get any. Maybe he could buy a Coke with the change he’d saved up and use that instead.

“Yeah, all the noise drew some attention and the lady’s son came over and ran the guy off, got the purse back and thanked me for helping his mom.”

Bucky could see the burn of shame in Steve’s eyes, the idea that someone had to come and help never sitting well. Trying to derail that train before it could even get started, Bucky put a gentle hand to the side of Steve’s face and tilted his head to the side, thumbing over one of the cut he’d just cleaned.

“Well, good to know all my work wasn’t for nothing.”

Steve looked up at him from the corner of his eye and Bucky dropped the rag into the sink, freeing his hand so that he could hoist Steve up by the armpit and drag him to his feet. “And this means you have to get through the winter, just to get back at that bastard.”

Stumbling at the sudden change in balance, Steve tipped forward into Bucky’s chest, coughing through a laugh and shaking his head. “That’s right, teach him to look down on the little guy.”

“Exactly,” Bucky smiled, ducking his head to push it against Steve’s, stooping so that he was awkwardly wrapped around Steve’s lanky form but more or less the same height. They swayed together in the tiny bathroom, both of their laughter dying out and replaced with a comfortable silence that filled the small space and made it feel safe.

After another minute, Bucky turned his head and pressed his lips to the base of Steve’s jaw, where it connected to his ear. He held his mouth there, breathing steadily through his nose as Steve tensed against him then relaxed with a sigh. He placed another kiss an inch further down, half on Steve’s cheek, feather light so it could almost be mistaken as something else.

Cuddling wasn’t new to them, not with the way Steve got in the winters, cold and shaking against Bucky’s chest. Neither was nuzzling, since Bucky was an affectionate sleeper and often woke up with his face pressed to Steve, rubbing at the soft skin there in the hazy headspace of morning before he fully realized what he was doing. (Or at least that’s what he told himself.)

But this was unmistakably more. Something different. And Bucky wasn’t sure if Steve wanted it at all, whatever it was. They were young and stupid and only had a few months left before they’d both be sent out to find their own way.

Exhaling warm against Steve’s neck and tightening his arms at Steve’s resultant shiver, he traced his nose down the side of Steve’s face then kissed just below the corner of Steve’s mouth, firmly at his jaw but closer than he ever dared to be.

He paused there, waiting until Steve blew out a breath and then waiting even longer, taking the opportunity to absorb everything about the moment he possibly could before taking a step back and releasing Steve back into the world. Out of the safe place in his arms where he wouldn't have to worry.

Steve just smiled up at him, head crooked to the side and eyes bright despite the cuts and bruises scattered across his face.

Bucky picked up the rag. “You ready to go, punk?”

“Sure thing,” Steve nodded, turning away to push open the door, waiting until Bucky crossed the threshold right beside him to say, “Jerk.”

\---+---

It was dark in the apartment by the time Bucky slipped in the door, shutting it as softly as possible behind him because he knew Steve was sleeping, still recovering from the harsh New York winter and the weak lungs that tried to kill him every year. He let out a sigh and pushed a hand through his hair, messing up the slick-sheen he had perfected after his last growth spurt had given him broader shoulders and bigger hands, made him fit for work in factories or at the docks. (If he could find it.)

He’d been lucky that day, had managed to catch a chance hauling cargo around one of the ships currently in harbor. Steve would hate it, but it’s what needed to be done. Something had to pay for the rent, food, Steve’s medications, and whatever else came their way. He was just thankful he’d found anything at all.

The floorboards creaked as he moved no matter how lightly he tried to step and not even a minute passed before he heard an answering creak from Steve’s bedroom and then the squeaking of the old door.

“Buck?” Steve asked, voice soft and brittle.

Bucky turned around and fixed Steve with a frown. “What’re you awake for?”

Steve shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.” His eyes anxiously traced over Bucky’s form and a furrow formed between his brows. “You been out working this late?”

“Yeah, figured I’d take the extra hours if they’d give ‘em.”

The crease in Steve’s forehead deepened and he padded across the cold hardwood floor until he was in Bucky’s space, delicate fingers reaching out to take Bucky’s bruised and calloused ones. He dropped Bucky’s hand suddenly and took a step back, a determined look on his face that Bucky knew to fear.

“I’ll go out looking for something tomorrow.”

“No,” Bucky shook his head. “You just rest and get better, I’m making plenty to keep us in-”

“Buck,” Steve said. “Stop. You can’t keep this up. You can’t keep taking care of me like I’m helpless.”

“Never said you were,” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, knowing where this was going- the same way it had about a thousand times before. He understood that Steve wanted to be strong, wanted to be independent, but there wasn’t anything wrong with accepting a little help if someone was willing to give it.

And Bucky _wanted_ to help Steve.

“Then don’t try to tell me not to work. We need the money.” Steve’s grumpy response brought Bucky back to the present and he shook his head slightly and huffed out a sigh.

“Not telling you not to work, Stevie. Just think you should give it another day or so before getting back out.” He watched as Steve opened his mouth to respond then clamped it shut again when a shiver wracked through his small frame. He knew Bucky was right, and he hated it. Not that he held it against Bucky for looking out for him, he just hated how frail he was. Bucky knew that. He knew that Steve would give anything to rid himself of the asthma and heart issues and perpetual fear of never waking up. But maybe that last one was just Bucky’s.

He pulled his coat off and hung it over a chair before letting out a sigh. “Get back in bed, under the blankets, and I’ll be there in a minute.” He saw Steve about to protest and said, “The sooner you’re warm and well rested, the sooner you’ll be out and working again.”

“Then why don’t you come to bed now?” Steve challenged, crossing his arms over his chest and lifting his chin.

“Because I need a smoke and your lungs don’t.” Bucky shot back, padding over to the window and cracking it open. He pulled out a cigarette from the pack he kept between the couch cushions and gave Steve another pointed look while he dug for his lighter, cigarette held between his teeth. “Don’t need to be by the open window, either.” He prompted.

Steve sighed. Grumbling under his breath, he turned and went back into their room, leaving Bucky to open the window the rest of the way and lean outside, smoke drifting away between the buildings.

The sound of one of the kitchen chairs scraping across the floor had his head turning and he cursed when he saw Steve plopped down in the middle of the room, wrapped in all the blankets from the bed and staring at him with a resolute expression.

“Fuck, Steve, what do you think you’re doing?” Bucky hissed, shifting to block some of the draft coming in from the window.

“I’m away from the smoke and the window, even have blankets. Nothing you can complain about.”

“You-” Bucky broke off what he was about to say with a sigh, snubbing out his cigarette instead and pushing it back into the box. He shut the window and turned back to Steve. “Alright, well I’m going to bed now. So you have fun out here by yourself.”

He walked past Steve to their room and started tugging off his clothes, hearing the chair scrape back into place and Steve enter the room sometime between undoing his belt and letting his trousers drop to the ground. When he was down to just his undershirt and shorts, standing near the wall and unsure of what to do, Steve rustled in the sheets behind him.

“Buck…you coming to bed?”

There was a hesitancy beneath the bravado and Bucky turned without a word, crossing the room and sliding in beside the smaller man, wrapping him up in his arms and pulling him close. Steve turned and buried his face in Bucky’s neck.

“M’sorry,” Steve mumbled. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I hate being coddled. I’m not a baby, and I’m not your dame.”

“Never said you were,” Bucky sighed. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t look out for you.” He bent his head and pressed his mouth to Steve’s forehead. “Don’t know what I’d do without you, punk.”

“Jerk.” Steve murmured, then shuddered against him.

Bucky hugged him tighter, hooking his chin back above Steve’s head. Minutes passed and Steve’s breathing slowed and evened out, lulling Bucky to sleep until he felt Steve pull his arms tighter to his chest.

“You too, Buck.” Steve whispered into the room. “Don’t know what I’d do.”

Bucky clenched his eyes tight and prayed to God neither of them would ever have to find out.

\---+---

Bucky knew he was in trouble. He’d known it since the moment he’d opened his fat mouth and told Steve to sit down and let him finish moving the couch before he got himself killed. (Why they needed it moved in the first place, he didn’t fully remember, just something about better lighting and less shadow for some sketch of Steve’s.)

Steve had narrowed his eyes, still watering from the asthma attack that had Bucky mouthing off in the first place, and stormed to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him with a bang they were sure to hear about from their neighbors. If there was one thing Steve hated more than anything, it was being treated like a wimp, like he couldn’t handle something. Bucky knew that better than anybody.

Which is why as soon as he’d said it, he regretted it. But he just couldn’t help himself. Steve had just gotten himself worked over down by the docks, sticking up to some bullies who had no problem beating the much smaller Steve Rogers black and blue and bloody. Luckily, someone Bucky worked with saw the commotion and broke up the fight, recognizing the blond hair and tiny stature from Bucky’s stories of a roommate and best friend with a knack for getting into trouble. So it was with the memory of practically carrying Steve’s battered form back to their apartment still fresh in his mind that Steve had doubled over in a coughing fit seemingly intent on hacking out what was left of his lungs, then insisted on continuing to help. Bucky had snapped.

He didn’t want to lose Steve, couldn’t. But he didn’t want Steve mad at him either.

And sure, he knew logically that Steve would come around eventually and they’d talk about it, but he didn’t feel like waiting the week or so for that to happen. Because in the mean Bucky would be suffering and Steve would insist on sleeping by himself, doing everything on his own, and generally making himself sick when Bucky was mere feet away and perfectly wiling to help.

So he decided to help the matter along.

It only took a few hours for his plan to come into action. He was sprawled out on the couch, head bent over the armrest looking out the window, when he heard Steve call from the kitchen, “Bucky, did you move the beans to the top shelf?”

Sitting up then making his way into the kitchen, Bucky leaned in the doorway and took in Steve’s frustrated expression.

“Must’ve put ‘em there by accident last time I fixed dinner.” Bucky shrugged, lie coming easily from his lips.

“Oh really,” Steve said. “Kinda like the last time we had a fight and all my pencils ended up on top of the dresser?”

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Stevie.”

“Sure you don’t,” Steve rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “But I hope you know we can’t have dinner until I get those cans.”

“Want me to get them down for you then?” Bucky asked casually. He sauntered closer and looked up at the cabinets. “It’ll cost you, you know.”

Steve sighed. “Bucky…”

“Yup, a kiss right on the cheek. That’s what it’ll take to get those cans down.”

“Guess you don’t want dinner then.” Steve quipped, spinning on his heel and heading towards the couch, presumably to draw or sketch while Bucky stewed in his own guilt and misery. But Bucky was quicker, dropping a hand on Steve’s shoulder and turning him around.

“C’mon, Steve. Is it really so bad? Kissing me?”

Steve turned his head away.

“Please, Steve. I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean anything by it. But you’ve been coughing all morning and I just…” He squeezed the hand at Steve’s shoulder. “Please, Steve?”

Steve eyed Bucky for a moment then sighed, reaching up on his toes to press a quick kiss to Bucky’s cheek. He pulled back and poked a finger into Bucky’s chest. “I don’t need you to mother me.”

“Don’t think I’d be asking my mother to kiss me, Stevie.” Bucky joked.

Steve swatted his chest, face scrunched up as he made his way back to the kitchen. “Shut up and get those cans down, Barnes. Since I kissed your ugly mug.”

Bucky did as he was told, reaching up and plucking one of the cans from the shelf and dropping it in Steve’s waiting hands before putting the two others back in their places on a lower shelf. They would need to go out soon and buy more food, but with the way Steve’s lungs had started to act up, Bucky wanted to wait as long as possible. Because if he had to buy medication, then he’d have to pinch pennies as much as he could at the store.

A bony elbow to the ribs had him jerking to the side and staring down at Steve’s exasperated expression.

“Stop thinking so much, Buck. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Bucky smirked, letting himself relax as he watched Steve move about the kitchen. “Shut up, punk.”

Steve looked over his shoulder with a familiar gleam in his eye. Bucky was forgiven. “Jerk.”

\---+---

“I swear to god, Steve…” Bucky growled, stalking through the streets like some kind of wild animal. Rain was pouring down, fat drops splashing into already ankle deep puddles, making the streets run with muddy water. It was hot, and humid, and Bucky could only imagine the state Steve would be in if he _wasn’t_ out running around in the rain. But he was. And the sun was starting to go down, ushering in a late-summer-evening cool that was sure to chill Steve to the bone.

The idiot was going to give himself pneumonia, kill himself, and then Bucky would die of a broken heart. No…not broken, more like torn in half. Because Steve was more a part of him than his own legs, seemed like, and if Steve went it was sure as hell not going to be long before he followed.

Not because he’d do it himself, no, never that, he wouldn’t be able to face Steve in the after life if it ever came to that. It’d be more like some crate would fall on him at the docks and he wouldn’t care enough to haul it off before it crushed him. Or he’d work himself to death, drown in alcohol, suffocate in smoke from his cigarettes...there were plenty of ways for the universe to collect him once his better half was gone.

He was halfway between their apartment and the corner store when a hunched over figure in an alley gave him pause. Then, one look at the soaked blond hair and quaking shoulders had him running again.

“Steve?” He asked, coming up beside him and ducking down to see his face. Then he cursed. Because Steve was having an attack, like Bucky knew he would, out in the middle of the city in a downpour where all Bucky could do was pull the smaller man against his chest and coax him to breath. “With me now, Stevie, with me. In…and out…just like that. You gotta fill up those lungs. Just like that. With me.”

Minutes later, Steve’s breathing was better but Bucky’s was picking up, anger quickly overtaking his worry. He pushed Steve away from his chest and turned him around, hands tight on Steve’s upper arms. “Why, Steve?” He hissed. “Why the hell couldn’t you have waited til I got home?”

“Because…” Steve coughed, voice reedy and weak but still managing to sound indignant at the same time. “You were all day out at the docks again. Don’t need to be doing this too.”

“Doing what? Dropping an envelope off at the store? That ain’t a chore, Steve, especially not on a day like this where you shouldn’t even have the windows open.”

“I wanted to do it, Buck.” Steve crossed his arms and stuck his chin out. Bucky knew that stance. Same one he’d get when he was about to run his mouth and say something that’d get him kicked. “I’m not your dame, don’t know how many times I gotta say it. You don’t have to take care of me.”

They glared at each other for a tense few moments before Bucky finally shook his head. “You’re right, I don’t have to do anything. But I _want_ to, and not because I think you’re my dame.” His voice softened and he dropped his gaze to Steve’s left shoulder. “I ain’t never thought that.”

“Then why?” Steve asked, voice dropping to match Bucky’s in volume. “There’s no reason for you to stay with me, Buck. All I do his hold you back. You oughta settle down with one of those dames you meet out dancing, get a house and kids.”

Bucky swallowed thickly. “Don’t want to, though. Don’t want to settle down with one of them.” He looked up at Steve and tired for a cocky smirk. “I like what we already got going, don’t you?”

Steve blinked at him, raindrops clinging thick in his lashes, then slowly shook his head. Bucky’s heart fell through his stomach. “No, Buck.” Steve whispered. “I’m all wrong for you. I-…”

Steve’s voice cracked and fell out and Bucky felt a surge of hope, and stepped forward to put a hand on the back of Steve’s neck, draw him closer. “But you like it too, Stevie? You like what we have?”

“Course I do,” Steve said. And hell if that didn’t make Bucky’s pulse spike and start running, thousands of thoughts swirling around in his head. “But you could have anyone, no reason you should settle for me. There are so many dames who would die to say Bucky Barnes was their best guy.”

Bucky shook his head. “But I don’t want them.”

“Bucky…”

“ _No_ , Steve. I don’t want them.”

Steve was tense, fists clenched and muscles twitching beneath Bucky’s hands, jaw working at the increased anger in Bucky’s tone. “Why.” He finally spit out, sounding more like a curse than a question.

“Because I don’t want someone like that.” Bucky exploded. “I don’t want someone who smells like cheap perfume and laughs at my jokes even when they’re terrible and wants to take me around to their parents’ house. I want _you_ , Steve. I decided on your goddamn stubborn attitude and your inability to watch out for your own well being and your ice-cold feet and your hellishly pointy elbows that jab me in the stomach every night. I decided on you.”

Rain was falling heavy around them, pounding hard against the ground and the tops of their heads, running down their faces and coating everything in a kind of liquid haze. Bucky licked at his lips and saw Steve track the movement with his eyes, even though the rest of him was frozen between Bucky’s hands.

Steve let out a shaky breath. “They’d beat you for saying something like that, you know. Take you straight to jail.”

“I don’t care.” Bucky said. “It’s the truth and it’s about damn time I said it. ‘Sides, nobody round here anyway. Unless you plan on telling.”

Steve shook his head, breaths coming out quick. “Wouldn’t do much good, considering they’d just arrest me too.”

“Would they?” Bucky lifted an eyebrow, licking his lips again and considering the way Steve mirrored the action. “On account of what?”

There was a beat of silence, then Steve was squaring his shoulders, a determined glint in his eye as he fisted the bunched up fabric at Bucky’s waist and tugged him close, using the grip as an anchor as he lifted up until their mouths were less than an inch apart. He swallowed nervously, whispering “ _This_ ” in a nervous tremor before covering Bucky’s lips with his own.

It was cold, and chapped, and wet from the water still pouring down between their faces, but it was also perfect. Pressure and strength and a burning desire to convey everything they couldn’t say in words, sealing their mouths together in a kiss like fire, even though it was chaste and simpler than most kisses Bucky had ever had.

It meant so much more.

They pulled away after only a few short moments, not daring to chance their luck despite their brave words less than a minute prior. But when they stepped apart, they were both smiling.

“So,” Bucky hummed, throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulders and leading them out onto the street. “Was that your first kiss?”

Steve promptly elbowed him in the ribs. “Jerk.”

Bucky just pulled him in tighter, smiling triumphantly as he whispered _“punk”_ into Steve’s ear.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!!


End file.
